


It isn't a secret

by theperipheral



Series: Canon divergence [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theperipheral/pseuds/theperipheral
Summary: Skaikru have been on the ground for over two years. Clarke waits for Lexa to arrive in Arkadia for a brief visit. Lexa asks her to come to Polis, for good. Perhaps it's time Clarke has a talk with Abby about a few things.





	It isn't a secret

**Author's Note:**

> This was not the piece I had planned to put up next, but here we are. I began writing this as a way to cope with reading about what s4 was doing to Clarke as a character. She deserves happiness. Thank you for reading.

When the cold creeps into her room, Clarke knows it’s time to head to bed. She’s been working through pages of Trigedasleng translations for hours, biding her time until Lexa and her entourage ride through the gates. The words are starting to blur together and she’s pretty sure the last half page is nonsense that she’ll have to redo in the morning. With a resigned sigh, she cleans off the nib of her pen and replaces the cap on her inkwell. She waits a few moments for the last words to dry before piling her pages together to review in the morning.

There’s something about pen and ink writing that Clarke has fallen in love with over the past couple of years. Perhaps the scratching of nib on paper and the way her hand has to move across the page speak more to her artistic side than the tapping of computer screens ever has. Maybe it’s the stains left on her fingers afterwards – a deep, rich blue that never resembles red, no matter the light.

Clarke files her day’s work away in a folder and places her writing implements back in their carved wooden box. Both the folder and box are tucked into her desk drawer, which is swiftly locked. Both the paper and ink are extremely expensive due to the skill required to make them and she knows she’s lucky to have been gifted them. They’re treasures, wonderful evidence of knowledge lost to her own people, but still alive within the other clans.

Stretching out her limbs, Clarke blinks a few times to refocus her eyes. The artificial lighting of the Ark has been constant for most of her life, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear after a long day. She glances at her datapad to discern the time, and finds it’s well past midnight. She concludes that Lexa must be staying the night in whichever village she’s visiting.

Lexa’s presence in Arkadia hasn’t been thoroughly planned to the minute. It’s a passing visit to check in on the clan and the surrounding villages to make sure everything is going smoothly. Both Clarke and Lexa have agreed that it’s best to make the Commander’s interest in Skaikru well known, but not overtly favourable. It keeps more grudge-bearing clans like Azgeda from pushing their luck with raiding, and the more argumentative Arkadians in their place. More importantly, it shows that she has a curiosity in their development and celebrates their accomplishments as a society, just like the other 12 clans.

Clarke slips her boots on, but doesn’t bother tying the laces. She stands and makes her way to the door. She sticks her head out to see if anyone’s around, but it’s a given that most people are already soundly asleep by this time. Still, she doesn’t want to be seen wandering around. Clarke hurries to her destination, pleased to find there are no guards stationed outside. _Of course, Lexa isn’t here, there’s no need to guard her room._

It’s dark inside, and no automatic lights come on when Clarke steps in. She doesn’t need them to know her way around the room, she could do it blindfolded. Clarke toes her boots off and then her thick woollen socks. The rest of her clothes come off one by one until there’s a pile to one side of the sitting area and she stands there in her underwear, shivering in the cold air.

With bare feet quick against the frigid metal floor, Clarke darts to the safety of the fur laden bed. She burrows deep beneath the pelts and wriggles to the side of the bed that technically isn’t hers, but she always ends up sleeping there when she’s having a tough night. The pillow doesn’t smell like Lexa and hasn’t for a while now, but there’s a lingering presence that comforts Clarke in ways she can’t explain.

-

It doesn’t feel like she’s been asleep at all when she opens her eyes to find a familiar face smiling down at her. She rolls her neck and blinks a few times just to be sure she’s not dreaming. The vision before her doesn’t fade and a sleepy smile forms on her own face. Lexa leans down to give her a small peck on the cheek.

“We were delayed.”

_Obviously._

Lexa has managed to change from her travelling gear into soft sleeping clothes without disturbing Clarke, but there’s a stiffness in her posture that speaks of sitting in the saddle too long and a weariness etched on her face. Clarke doesn’t say anything, just shuffles backwards onto her own side of the bed to make room. The furs bunch awkwardly and she shivers in the cold side of the bed. The mattress dips and suddenly it’s not so bad, because there’s a warm body pressed up against hers and the smell she’s been craving is all around her.

“Just go to sleep,” she mumbles, halfway there herself. “We can talk in the morning.”

She feels Lexa nod her head in agreement.

“Missed you.”

Clarke nuzzles her way closer, breathing in deeply.

“Love you.”

-

Clarke has no idea what time it is when she wakes up. It must be cold outside of the furs, because it’s toe-tinglingly perfect beneath them. She stretches out, warm contentment spreading throughout her body as she realises where she is and who she’s with. Lexa is curled into a ball, pressed closely into her. The commander sleeps peacefully, lips slightly parted and face utterly relaxed. Clarke takes time to commit it to memory.

It’s a while before Lexa stirs. Clarke is in no hurry to wake her and is satisfied to wait, simply allowing herself to lie in bed with the woman she loves. The process is slow, beginning with a small huff of breath, followed by a flutter of eyelashes. Next, the pink tongue that has been peeking adorably between plump lips retreats and a soft groan is released. Eyebrows raise and eyes open sleepily to look up at Clarke.

Clarke presses a kiss to Lexa’s cheek and it takes a few moments for a small sound of recognition to sound out. Lexa uncurls herself and tosses an arm over Clarke’s side, pulling her close as she loosens her muscles.

“This is the best way to wake up,” Lexa mumbles, and Clarke hums her agreement.

Clarke knows exactly the last time she slept so well and from experience, knows it’s Lexa that has this effect on her. The way fingers clinging to the small of her back tells her that she isn’t alone in that sentiment.

“You okay?”

Lexa hums and nods.

“Yes, I just want to savour the moment a while longer.”

At those words, Clarke smiles and sinks into the embrace.

“Do you have to be anywhere today?” she asks after a few moments of silence. Heda’s time is precious, after all.

“No. Ice-melt slowed us yesterday and it makes it impossible for us to visit the village we meant to. We’ll stay here and rest the horses until tomorrow.”

“Just the horses?”

One eye cracks open, a playful grin spreads across Lexa’s face.

“Oh, I’ve no intention of sleeping all day.”

She leans over Clarke then, the arm previously resting on her back sliding up to her side. The kiss is soft, speaking of pleasant dreams involving moments just like this. Clarke pushes back onto one elbow, a light moan escaping her lips when gentle fingers trace up from their place on her ribs to ghost over the curve of her breast. Bringing her own hand up to meet it, she encourages the touch and feels it turn firmer, running up until a thumb flicks over her clothed nipple.

She breathes her lover’s name, feels the lips on hers curve as they sweep up to press over her beauty mark. Clarke’s own tongue sneaks out then, teasing at Lexa’s bottom lip and drawing it in. She brings her spare hand up to cradle Lexa’s neck and keep her close, feeling the pulse flutter and quicken under her fingertips.

Lexa pulls back then, gazing down with darkened, heavy lidded eyes. Her lips remain parted, reddened from their contact.

“You taste like morning.”

Clarke pulls Lexa in tightly and tangles her fingers in her hair.

“So do you.”

-

The question comes a few days later, when they’re sitting together on the top of Clarke’s bed. Lexa is reclining, reading through Clarke’s work. There’s a pen rolling between her fingers, making occasional alterations and marks about pronunciation. Her legs are crossed at the calf, feet moving in time to some rhythm only she knows. The movement jostles the mattress and Clarke slaps her thigh multiple times to get her to stop, but she’s only met with an amused smirk. Clarke rolls her eyes and returns to her task - sewing up a hole in her favourite shirt that she can no longer ignore.

“Come back to Polis with me?”

Clarke doesn’t even look up from what she’s doing. She pulls the needle through the fabric, unreasonably pleased at how neat her stitches are so far.

“I have a lot of work to do, but I guess I can put it off for a few days. Do you have something planned?” She does look up then, cocks one eyebrow playfully and lowers her voice. “Is it something sexy?”

Lexa stops reading her page with an eyebrow raise of her own.

“No Clarke, it’s not something sexy.” She hesitates. “I mean permanently.”

Clarke’s breath catches in her throat and her needle catches in her forefinger.

“Son-of-a-,” she shakes her hand then sucks her finger to ease the sting. It doesn’t work, but it gives her a moment to process what’s being asked of her.

“You want me to move to Polis?”

“If you want to.”

Lexa arranges the papers into a neat pile, which she places on the bedside table. She shuffles back on the bed to lean against the headboard and knits her fingers together over her abdomen. She’s the very picture of nonchalance and Clarke isn’t sure _how_ , given the gravity of what they’re talking about.

“Like… into the tower?”

“Yes.”

“Into your quarters?”

“If that’s what you want,” Lexa shrugs as if it’s nothing. It’s not nothing. It couldn’t be further from nothing.

Sliding her needle into a spot where she’ll find it again, Clarke sets her project aside and turns around so they face each other. Lexa’s expression is entirely serious, her mouth tugged slightly to the side belying a hint of nerves. She shifts uncomfortably and Clarke clears her throat, blinking the confusion from her eyes.

“Why now?” she asks, head tilting. Things have come a long way, but there are still lingering tensions among those who lost loved ones in the early days.

“Things are stabilising. Skaikru have both their independence to grow as a community, and still need the rest of the clans to survive. It works the same for the others. It’s peace through cooperation, as we wanted. In all my years _,_ I’ve never known such calm. Perhaps it’s time to enjoy it.”

The part of Clarke that is somehow still tuned to _survival-at-all-costs_ screams that the calm is simply temporary. There’s always danger looming, even if they can’t see it. The part of her that wants to _live_ screams at her to jump on the opportunity. She loves Polis, and she’s misses being there for longer than the fleeting visits she can squeeze in during important occasions.

“It would be a risk,” Lexa concedes when she doesn’t reply, “but I’d like to try.”

Clarke isn’t sure what to say. She sits there, mouth opening and closing as she tries to find words, but none surface. Lexa doesn’t wilt under the uncertainty, just reaches out to take her hand and squeezes gently.

“When you’re not there, I miss going to bed knowing that you’ll be there when I wake up. I look over the balcony and know that you’d love seeing the sun rise over Polis, and eat breakfast knowing that you’ll be doing the same, but too far away. I argue with the ambassadors and wish I could talk to you because you see the things they don’t.”

Clarke knows that the words are true because she’s felt the same things countless times. There’s a tenderness in Lexa’s gaze that says she’ll understand if the answer is no, but Clarke doesn’t have an answer to give. Instead, she leans forward to kiss Lexa on the cheek, an action that still makes her blush, even after two years. She pushes back until Lexa is lying flat and settles herself next to her, head resting on her shoulder. Lexa presses her lips to the crown of her head.

“I thought you might have your old rooms back, if you think it’s safer.”

“Let me think about it,” Clarke murmurs, her hand snaking around Lexa’s torso. She feels Lexa’s nod and fingertips tracing soothing patterns on her spine, and knows that she’s safe.

-

The next morning as Lexa stands to dress for the day, all Clarke wants is to drag her back down beside herself. She wriggles to turn over and reaches out like a desperate infant.

“Come back,” she croaks out, only to be met with an amused, closed-eye smile.

“I can’t. There’s a lot that needs to be done.”

Clarke groans and stares at the ceiling for a moment, before shifting her gaze to watch as Lexa steps into her pants. Her eyes follow the line of toned legs up and she takes her time appreciating the delectable backside she’s come to enjoy so much.

“I’m going to talk to my mom today,” she decides out loud. The rustle of clothing ceases.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Lexa’s hands fall from the buttons of her pants and she turns to look at Clarke. After contemplating for a moment, Clarke shakes her head. She makes herself sit up, legs over the side of the bed, arms stretched out either side.

“No, it might get messy. Thank you for offering.”

Lexa stoops to kiss her forehead, one arm stretched out as she tries to put it through her shirt at the same time. Clarke chuckles at the sight and tugs the shirt around to help get the other arm through. Her fingers runn over the hem when it falls into place.

“Will you be gone all day?” she asks as Lexa’s hands come to rest on her shoulders.

“Most of it. We’ll be back by nightfall at the latest.”

Clarke nods. The days are only just starting to become noticeably longer, so it shouldn’t be too late.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can”

“I know.”

-

Normally, she’d head straight to work. Her Trigedasleng-English phrasebook has become something of her pride and joy. She wants to finish it and find a way to print it for use both here in Arkadia and in Polis, where more classrooms are beginning to crop up. Today her feet don’t carry her to the out-of-the-way corner of the ark where she toils over her pages. Instead, she finds herself outside the medbay. She hesitates to cross the threshold.

“Clarke!” Jackson bustles in past her, a stack of heavy looking boxes piled high in his arms. “Haven’t seen you around in a while, busy I guess. Everything okay?”

The young doctor carries on walking as though he expects her to follow, so she does. The boxes are deposited on a lab bench, but he doesn’t stop moving, just picks up a data pad and moves to check up on his patients.

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke hasn’t really interacted with him since they were in space and she isn’t entirely sure how to talk to him anymore. It’s strange, seeing as he’d always doted on her growing up. “Have you seen my mom around?”

“Yeah,” Jackson murmurs absently, frowning at something on a chart and tapping something into his notes. He waves over his assistant, an intimidatingly large tattooed grounder with surprisingly gentle bedside manner. Clarke waits expectantly. “Oh, right. I just took over the shift, she’s probably headed home.”

“Thanks,” Clarke nods and says a quick goodbye before she leaves in a hurry.

If she’s quick, she can catch her mother before she’s asleep. She powerwalks through the halls and nobody bothers her, likely thinking she’s on another of her ‘missions to save the world’.

What Clarke doesn’t expect when she taps the intercom and asks to come in, is for Kane – _Marcus_ \- to answer, smile wide with surprise. He’s usually elbow deep in some task by now, but for some reason he hasn’t left yet.

“Clarke! We weren’t expecting you. Anything I can help with?”

He’s incessantly cheerful and his hair is tousled and beard is scruffy. She really doesn’t want to think about the reason for his unkempt look. She shoves the thought roughly out of her mind – she’s there for a reason, after all.

“Uh, no. I just wanted to talk to mom. Is she here?”

Marcus nods and takes a step back, inviting her in with a sweeping arm.

“Sure, she’s just winding down after a night shift. I’ll get her for you.”

“Thanks.”

Clarke sits herself on the edge of the threadbare sofa in the middle of the room while Marcus heads into the bedroom. The residence is bigger than her own, meant for two, and decorated with various mementos of the lives of both inhabitants. It’s still somewhat strange to think about how back in space, there had been a strong mutual dislike between her mother and Kane, and yet here they are, the picture of domestic bliss. It gives her hope for her own future.

A few moments later, Abby enters and Marcus excuses himself, saying he doesn’t want to intrude. Clarke sends him a thankful smile and promises herself that they’ll have their own talk another time. He makes her mother happy, and she’s glad for that.

The door slides closed and mother and daughter are left completely alone for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Lexa wants me in Polis,” Clarke announces after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. She’s never been the kind of person to mince her words.

“Oh,” Abby’s eyebrows raise at the idea of her daughter asking for permission. “I’m sure we can find someone to help cover work for you if that’s what you want,”

Clarke stiffens a little at the need to clarify.

“Permanently.”

Clarke refuses to look away, even as Abby stares flabbergasted, brow furrowed. This conversation has been a long time coming and she can’t stop now that she’s started.

“Why?”

Clarke’s hands tighten and her shoulders stiffen. Her heart pounds in her ears as the secret she’s been keeping for two and a half years bubbles to the surface, finally allowed into the open.

“Because I love her.”

She hears the sharp inhalation of breath and braces herself for an argument. Half the times she’s imagined talking to her mom about this, she’s envisaged a shouting match, like there was when Raven found out. The other half of her scenarios have ended with the sad, disappointed look that she’s grown accustomed to since coming to the ground. In reality, what she’s met with is neither. There’s a tremble in Abby’s mouth that quickly rights itself and a warm hand comes to rest on top of her own.

“I don’t understand… There were rumours, but… how long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she says quietly, suddenly unable to look at anything but her own boots. She’s thought about it before, but never been able to put her finger on exactly when she realised just how important Lexa is to her. It’s difficult to be so open after hiding such a large part of herself for so long.

“Take your time. She loves you too, I take it?”

Clarke nods.

“She does. She tells me that a lot, actually,” she laughs weakly, a bubble of wetness rising in her throat. Her eyes sting as she lets out a shaky breath and arms encircle her and draw her in. It takes a moment before she can reciprocate the embrace, but when she does it’s every bit as comforting as it had been when she was a little girl crying over a scraped knee. Abby smooths Clarke’s hair on one side and smiles encouragingly. Before she knows what she’s doing, Clarke’s telling her nearly everything that’s happened.

She details her uncertainties after Lexa’s first confession, before the assault on Mount Weather and how intimately personal the betrayal had been. She talks about her three-month soul searching journey, how she’d let self-hatred and loathing for Lexa fester in her heart and the horror she’d felt when ultimately, face-to-face and knife-to-throat, she’d hadn’t been able to push that little but further and kill her.

“After Mount Weather, a part of me broke and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t want her help, but she gave it and didn’t expect anything in return. She was there for me when no one else was. I’d built up this picture in my head that she was some kind of monster, but when she looked at me and saw what her choice had done…”

Abby listens patiently as Clarke talks about how she’s always understood why Lexa did what she did and how she’d tried to make it right. Her eyes begin to water as the tale turns from one of hurt to one of healing and Clarke tries to wave it off, saying that she should stop crying or she won’t be able to finish.

“When we went to Polis after we joined the coalition again, it was just… it was amazing. She showed me parts of the city I never would have seen and the people… she loves them, mom. She wants to know them and keep them safe and give them what they need. She’s so proud of them.”

“You sound like you’re proud of her too,” Abby observes.

“Yeah. I am,” Clarke smiles, eyes blurred with tears. “The first time she came for Unity Day, I made her come with me to the masquerade. We dressed up and nobody recognised her the whole time. We got to be us, without having anybody expect anything of us and god, it was the best night of my life. We danced and drank and laughed and she told me she loved me and I never wanted it to end.”

“But,” Abby frowns, trying to pick her words, “she’s still… the commander.”

Clarke nods.

“Yeah. She’s still the one that ordered us killed in the early days, but she’s also protected us and kept us safe. We’re alive and thriving because she made the other clans accept us.”

“Did she do it for you?” The question hangs in the air for a moment as Clarke shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“She would keep her people safe regardless of me. We _are_ her people.”

They both know that she’s the reason.

“Do you want to go?”

That’s the question Clarke’s been going over in her head since Lex asked. Before that, if she’s honest with herself.

“I think so. I don’t need to be here like I used to. I can trust everyone not to start a war now.”

The smile she gives is weak, but she means it. Skaikru have truly begun to settle and build their lives on the ground.

“Your feelings could change,” Abby presses. “Living with someone is different to seeing them long distance.”

“I know, and if we break up, then we that’s the way it has to be. I don’t think we will.”

Abby is taken aback by that, her shoulders jolt and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You’re certain. You really do love her then?”

 “I don’t know how to explain it… It’s small things. Like last night, we were just sitting together in my room not even doing the same thing and it felt right. It’s just easier when she’s there. It’s been hard, not talking about it.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Octavia and Raven. Neither of them are happy about it. I…” she makes herself look her mom in the eye. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. Everyone knows her as the commander, but she’s just Lexa to me.”

Her mother’s expression is soft with sympathy and Clarke can’t stop shaking because this isn’t how she’d imagined things happening at all.

“You should go.”

Clarke’s eyes are wide at the words. She doesn’t know how to reply.

“Be honest, Clarke, you were going anyway,” Abby’s mouth quirks up and it makes Clarke smile herself.

“You’re okay with it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But Clarke, if you make each other happy, that’s what matters the most. Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

“We will be,” Clarke insists, already going over the logistics in her head. She’ll need to plan what she can take and arrange travel. Her mom’s looking at her like she’s not finished yet.

“You’re going to invite her over here. I want to know the person she is with _you_.”

“She might not have time to-,”

“You’ll both make time, even if it has to eat into your ‘cuddle time’.”

Her tone doesn’t brook argument. Clarke blushes furiously, but agrees.

-

“I’m coming,” Clarke announces when the outer door to Lexa’s room slides shut.

“Not yet you’re not,” Lexa calls back from the bathroom. The shower’s running, but the partition hasn’t been closed over and steam rolls through into the main room.

Clarke rolls her eyes but smiles to herself. Lexa’s sense of humour has certainly made itself more known as the two of them have grown more comfortable with each other. Normally, it’s gentle teasing - something that likely grew out of living in close quarters with her fellow novitiates and then supressed upon losing them. Clarke sees it mirrored in Aden and the other nightbloods. The two of them are so serious when the world is watching, but when they’re with the people they care about, it’s different. She feels privileged to know them like that.

“Polis. I mean, I’m coming to Polis with you.”

Lexa’s head pokes out past the doorframe, her lips parted as she tries to process the information. There are suds still in her hair, water drips down the column of her neck. She smiles, the purest joy that Clarke has ever seen.


End file.
